


Well, This Is Awkward

by thatyellowbird



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatyellowbird/pseuds/thatyellowbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Stiles goes on a blind date, and... well, it doesn't go the way he'd thought it would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, This Is Awkward

Stiles is about eight minutes late when he arrives at the restaurant, his face flushed from having to run to get here. He had been here on time, if it hadn’t been for a slight kitten-related emergency, but hey. He’s here now and, after scanning the room twice, he spots a man sitting alone near the end of the bar.

He’s wearing a maroon colored Henley, dark jeans, and there’s a leather jacket draped over the back of his chair.

Lydia hadn’t said anything about a leather jacket when describing him; well, Lydia hadn’t exactly said much at all about the guy Stiles was meeting here, because ’that’s now how blind dates work, Stiles. The whole point is that you _don’t_ know how the other one looks before hand‘.

So all Stiles knew was that he was meeting a guy who had dark hair, was very good looking and that he would be wearing jeans and a maroon colored sweater.

And this guy had both of those things, ergo- it had to be him. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles moves towards the bar. 

“Hey,” he smiles, “sorry for being late.“

“Um,“ The guy turns his head and, okay, good looking doesn't even being to describe him, that's just- yeah, no. So, Hot Guy quirks an eyebrow at him, looking confused. “I don’t think-”

“I was totally on schedule-“ Stiles interrupts, sliding almost gracefully into the seat next to the man, “for not being late, I mean.”

“…Okay?” 

“But then my kitten decided that she did _not_ want me to leave, so I had to tell her that I was just doing out and that I were, in fact, not abandoning her, and then I had to literally run here because-” Stiles breathes out, drumming his fingers nervously against the bar top. “-you know, _being late_.” 

Hot Guy just stares back at him, still a confused look on his face.

“But, I’m here now, and you’re here now, so.” Stiles says, catching the eye of the bartender. “Uh, I’ll have whatever he’s having, thanks.”

As soon as the drink is put down in front of him, Stiles takes a big gulp and winces as it burns its way down his throat. 

“Whiskey.” Stiles coughs out, smiling weakly at the man. “Nice.”

Ugh, this is not going well at all.

First off, he had been late. Who the hell is late for a date, that’s like, first rule. But, the guy hadn’t left before Stiles got here, so maybe he wasn’t that late. Maybe it was just like, fashionably late. That works for date-related things, too, right? Right. Totally.

Also, he had only been here for like two minutes and he had already talked _a lot_ , and the guy had barely said one word. Also not good. But again, he still hasn’t left, so.

Okay, time to take control over the situation. Time to be cool… ish. Stiles could totally pull off coolishness. Yes. Okay. Okay.

“Sooo,” he says, turning towards his date again, flashing him a smile. “How was your day?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah? Cool.” He nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Cool, cool, cool. That’s-”

“Cool?”

Hot Guy is definitely giving him a less confused, more amused look now, the corners of his mouth quirking just slightly upwards. And, fine, maybe Stiles loses himself a little bit in the crinkles around Hot Guy’s eyes and the way he ducks his head just so, and- 

“Stiles?”

Dragging his eyes away from Hot Guy, with whom he is on a date with, heh, Stiles turns to find another man standing besides him.

“Yeah?” 

“You’re Stiles, right?” The man looks questioningly at him. “You were going to wear a red shirt and black jeans?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s- ” Stiles glances back at Hot Guy, who is looking just as confused as Stiles feels. “that seems to be correct, yes.”

“Yeah, we were supposed to meet here, at eight,” the man says, and oh.

_Oh._

Okay, so Stiles is definitely not good at this whole blind dating thing, because oh my god, _this_ is his date. Not Hot Guy-guy, who is definitely not smiling anymore, but instead frowning down at his own hands like they’ve personally offended him, and- oh, right. Actual Date-guy is talking again.

“Huh?”

“ _But_ ,” Actual Date-guy says, patiently. “I can see that you’re busy, so maybe we can take a rain check.”

“Uh, I-”

“Bye, Stiles.”

The man looks from Stiles to Hot Guy, nods once, and then turns around and leaves the restaurant.

“Wow, okay, so…" Stiles stares at the door, before slowly turning back to the bar, "that was awkward.”

“Yeah,” Hot Guy nods, still frowning down at his hands. “I didn’t know you were here for-”

“No, that’s- I just, I assumed, and I shouldn’t have.”

“I- Okay.”

“It’s just, well, I haven’t really done anything like this before, you know, and you totally fit the description I got what with the dark jeans and the sweater. And, I can understand now that that‘s a pretty non-descriptive description.” Stiles shakes his head, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment, “Fuck, it’s just that Lydia said-”

“Who‘s Lydia?”

“-she _said_ that my date would be good looking but not that he’d be like, a living, breathing Greek statue-” 

Hot Guy makes a face, and if Stiles had any sort of brain-to-mouth brake he would probably realize that he should stop talking, but since Stiles is still Stiles, he just… doesn’t, and-

“-and you‘re just… really attractive, and very lickable,” Stiles stops, his eyes widening in horror, “and I didn’t actually mean to say that last part, I just said that in my head when I sat down next to you, because hello, have you _seen_ you, just- Okay, I need to shut up like, right now.”

“Lickable?” Hot Guy bites his lips in an attempt to not laugh, and really, that’s just unfair. “Really?”

“It’s a _thing_.” Stiles groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh, god, shut _up_.”

“I thought you were the one who was going to shut up.”

“I am!”

“Mhm.”

“I was talking to myself,” he sinks deeper in his chair, crossing his arms on the bar disk before burrowing his head in them, muttering to himself, “because that’s totally how you make yourself look less like an idiot. By talking to yourself. Wow, I am so good at this.”

Hot Guy stays silent and, really, Stiles should stop calling him that.

Because he’s not _Stiles_ ’ Hot Guy anymore, because he’s not Stiles date and he never was and god, he probably thinks that Stiles is a creepy weirdo and fuck, Stiles should just leave now before he has the chance to humiliate himself further.

He’s just about to man up and run away from the bar and then out of the restaurant, and hide in his bedroom and eat his own weight in ice cream because that‘s how you deal with things like this, when H- when the man besides him clear his throat.

“He was rude, anyways.”

“I know, I‘m sorry, let‘s just-” Stiles stops, because, what. “Wait, what?”

“The guy,” The man says and, when Stiles just looks at him in confusion, he adds, “The one who you were supposed to meet here for the date?”

“Oh.” Stiles pushes himself up from where he‘s practically been laying on the bar disk, bringing one hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, but that’s not-”

“I'm just- When you sat down next to me, you apologized for being late.”

“Because I was late, dude.” Stiles snorts. “That’s not his fault.”

“Exactly my point, you were late.” The man says, a small smile playing on his lips. “And we’ve been talking for at least ten minutes, which means that you date were late, too. Or, more late, I guess.”

“Huh, that’s-” Stiles squints his eyes, and- oh, okay. He cracks a smile, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, what a fucking asshole, right? Being late for his own date. And, he didn‘t even apologize.”

“Yeah,“ The man smiles, tipping his glass up in agreement before taking a sip. “Rude, fucking asshole.”

“I’m Stiles, by the way.” Stiles says, holding out a hand. “Should probably have started with that, huh?”

“Yeah, probably.” The man looks down at his outstretched hand, considering, and then he slips his own into it, looks back up at Stiles and smiles. “I’m Derek.”

Stiles squeezes _Derek's_ hand, before letting go and turning back to take a sip of his drink, watching the guy watch him from the corner of his eyes, and. Well. Maybe the ice cream can stay put in the fridge tonight, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first fic I've written in a very, very long time. So, please, be gentle.
> 
> And since I know I won't have the balls to post it later, if I don't do it right now, I haven't had anyone beta it for me, so if there's any grammatical errors, please let me know!


End file.
